


Dominant Feelings

by Senora_Luna



Series: 30 Day OTP Smut One Shots [4]
Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Dom/sub, Emotional Sex, F/M, Married Sex, Old Married Couple, Post-Canon, Skeleton Sex, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 00:47:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16186586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Senora_Luna/pseuds/Senora_Luna
Summary: Imelda prefers to work through her issues, by literally working. Hector's finally back in the picture, and unlike the rest of the family, not afraid to call her out on it.





	Dominant Feelings

 

 

 

                When you’re dead, your limitations vanish. There’s no need to eat, take bathroom breaks, or stress about inconvenient muscle aches. Bones will endure far longer-and even if they break the pain is phantom, all is bearable. Almost all discomfort can be put aside once dead-after all, wasn’t that death’s reward after a life spent toiling away in the hot sun?

                Such was Imelda’s philosophy. The shoe business had become her preoccupation in life, and so it continued in death-hours on end in the workshop dedicated to bookkeeping, organization, and hoping on a sewing machine herself if she felt the family was running behind schedule. Then, a living member of her family made to the land of the dead, and she had the strangest, most exhausting, and blessing of an evening since death.

                Héctor came back into her life and so did music. Now she split her time between rehearsals and managing her own company. Since hearing her perform at the Sunrise Spectacular, accompanied by the downfall of Ernesto De La Cruz-she-like her husband the proficient songwriter-were now constantly being asked to perform, give interviews, and write songs.

                Now she cared little for the interviews, the publicity, any of that. A life of gossiping town’s people in Santa Cecilia left a foul taste in her mouth-but the music, oh how she loved the music. And performing side by side with her husband, her love, after one hundred years. It filled her heart.

                But of course between all that, there was very little time. There is where the convenience of being dead came in. Working non-stop was easy without the demands of a body, even if her mind became just a _little_ weary. Even if her bones ached just a _tiny_ amount. The family was getting worried.

                Obviously Oscar and Felipe (who had taken over the workshop during absences and were encouraging more wild and innovative products) accosted her first, when they woke one morning to find her still there, scanning over books and highlighting items in red pencil with coffee nearby. Their attempts to persuade her to rest were dismissed with a shooing of her hand.

                Then Héctor (once they shared a bed) when he awoke after a concert to find her side of the bed empty, and it dawned on him she never came to bed at all but remained at the rehearsal hall all evening. His attempts were met with some ‘mmhm’ and nods, but he wasn’t entirely sure she listening. Still their ‘remarriage’ was new, and he wasn’t ready to push her limits.

                Then Rosita and Julio became worried. Each catching her dozing off at Sunday family meals, both in their sweet and gentle ways bringing up she may be working too hard. Imelda scoffed dismissively explaining with a touch of pride it was the life of a performer and businesswoman.

                Then even Victoria leveled with her, telling her frankly the amount she was dozing off the workshop was making her work clumsy. Imelda glared at her granddaughter, and huffed she was too young to know what she was talking about. Even with the icy reminder ‘Abuela I died in my fifties’, Imelda still gave her a long lecture about work which the entire workshop was subjected to. When Coco arrived, it was her idea to round the entire family to urge Papá to intervene.

                “But he tried already, I think she just ignored him…” Rosita murmured with a sigh. Julio nodded in agreement as Victoria piped in.

                “Mamá I think our only option to stop Abuela is to lock down the workshop.”

                “Who’s to say she wouldn’t use Pepita to break down the door…” Felipe muttered.

“Ay, none of you know how Mamà and Papà were when they were alive. Papà seemed to be the only one to convince her to relax. She could be busy around the house all day, but then he would come home and she would be singing and dancing in the living room with me.” Despite the warm nostalgia to fill her eye sockets the rest of the family could only manage a series of passive smiles or doubtful grimaces.

Hèctor was more than eager, and especially alarmed upon hearing just overworked Imelda was becoming.

“She’s going to the workshop too? She didn’t tell me that.” A frown cross his face as he rubbed exasperated fingers over bone bridge of what had been his nose.

“Didn’t you notice?” Felipe huffed.

“Well I was coming back so late from gigs I didn’t want to bother her…”

“You know how she was alive-well it’s that but ten times worse.”

“Ay…I thought she was excited to have music in her life again but I see where this is going.” Hèctor blinked a few times seeming to debate a few options before rising to leave the main house for the adjoining workshop. “No problemo, I’ll handle this.” And waved a thumbs up to the family before closing the door behind her. The group seemed momentarily alarmed by his lack of explanation.

“Um, did I miss something?” Julio managed, brushing off his confusion. Part of him was terribly afraid this could all backfire unleashing Imelda’s wrath. Coco put a hand to her husband’s shoulder.

“I’m sure he has a plan.”

“He was always…” Oscar began,

“Spontaneous.” Added Felipe with not the greatest compliment in his voice.

“He’s an artist.” Coco smiled. The group were silent a moment.

“Although in case it does go wrong-“ Rosita began sweetly.

“We should go.” Julio said frantically.

“I’m going to buy a lock.” Victoria muttered, as the rest of the family all muttered excuses to depart the hacienda except for Coco who remained confidently smiling until her husband urged her along.

Imelda was glaring at the numbers in her ledger. They were moving and shifting constantly, some idiot must have touched it-one of her brothers. Stupidos. Then again she felt distraction tugging at her mind, absently she scribbled a few lyrical notes on the corner of the before pausing in distain. Frantically she erased the doodles and squinted her eyes to focus on the dancing lines upon the page. Resting a hand upon her cheek bone she propped up her skull doing all possible in her power to focus. Then just as she found a rhythm and focused her will, the clattering of the door rattled her bones.

“Imeellllda!” Hèctor. His sing song. His abundant energy. Right now she could only scowl and take a long swig of coffee before he reached her office. A moment later his head poked in with an energetic smile that made her only resentful. “Hola bonita”

“What do you want Hèctor?” She grumbled, then reconsidered recalling their talk about being ‘nice’ even when tired. “I’m…working…do you need something?”

“Oh I just missed you is all.” To her dismay he took a seat right on the corner of her desk. He was lucky to be such a narrow boned man or she may have snapped if he covered her work.

“You saw me last evening.”

“A brief moment before falling asleep…which you apparently did not.” A scolding tone reached his voice like he were speaking to one of their children.

“I wasn’t tired.” Imelda snipped back shrugging it off. “And now I’m busy.”

“Busy? After working all day yesterday?”

“ ** _Si.”_**

“ _And_ with the family’s help?”

“ ** _Si!”_**   

“Hm must have a giant order then-“ And to a squeak of her dismay he yanked free the ledger from beneath her hands, easily holding it above her reach with his height as he stood with a tutting noises despite having no tongue. “Strange, I see nothing pressing here-why this looks like next year’s taxes and yet it’s _much_ too early to be doing that. Almost seems like busy work-,”

“You don’t understand!”

“Oh, Imelda, _mi amor…”_ he spoke in that sweet condescending, and mischief oozing out of every word tone.“ I have done so many money hustling schemes that I know when something about business is fake.”

“Wait you _what_ -“

“Honesty, you’re the one lying.” He rose a brow to her and the embarrassment and anger mixed in her eyes.

“This is ridiculous-“

“We said,” and the lower note in his voice paused her bringing a flutter in her absent chest, the skeletal fingers pressed up her jaw to meet his gaze. “We were not going to lie to one another-didn’t we?” Imelda struggled a moment for words, and couldn’t manage a response-he could hold attention when he wanted. She forgot in these moments how schmoozing and captivating he could be as a performer.

“…I like having the work.”

“That’s obvious, why are you working to this degree though?” The eyes weren’t about to let her free, Imelda nearly blurted ‘I don’t know’ but that wasn’t going to be an acceptable answer. Even if her mind had long forgotten the occasion he had done this when alive-the closest ever coming to being a machismo esposo-she could remember the feeling. Perhaps a moment of denying her feelings or one of her restless nights. Those-eyes, dark, speckled with a warm brown that could reflect red-they hooked into her own, creating an inseparable pull.

“Does it really matter-,”

“Si.”

“Well I…I like to stay on top of things. And with my new career, and such I have a lot to be doing so I am working and double checking nothing is forgotten.”

“You aren’t sleeping.”

“We don’t need to sleep we’re dead.”

“Then why do you have coffee?” And he tapped the top of her head with the ledger making her fume. Imelda snatched it back and took a long swig of her mug before he could steal it away.

“Because I like to focus, and like the taste, and have work to do! So unless you have a question I would like to finish before I go to rehearse!” The snapping comment hung in the air like she had taken a bite out of him. Damn him, not even the slightest twitch in expression. The rest of her family knew to obey-but not him, that she was still growing accustomed to. Héctor sighed pulling at the end of his goatee, and she heard him muttering a debate under his own breath over something. Then a decision was made.

                Calmly, he snatched the coffee mug off her desk and stood once again using his height to keep it away. Imelda in pure frustration rose after him falling exactly into the trap he’d set. The moment she was up, his free arm had her around the waist, scooping her high over his shoulder with a yelp on her on part.

                “HECTOR JACINTO RIVERA GARCIA PUT ME DOWN!” Imelda snarled and to her fury he only chuckled returning the coffee mug to it’s place.

                “What’s that? You agree you need a nap! Imeldita I’m so proud of you.”

                “Héctor I swear-!” She fumed as he kicked the workshop door open, and carried her across the garden back to the main house.

                “What’s that-? You want me to tuck you in? Of course I will!” And detaching a hand it crawled over the doorknob opening it for the two.

                “Someone’s going to hear-or see-!”

                “I’ll have you know the majority of the family came together to plead with me to get you to rest-so I’m sure they’d be more than happy to see you taking a nap if they hadn’t scurried off. They think you’re so frightening Imeldita-I don’t see why!” With ease he walked around to the winding main staircase in their pueblo style house-one even older than they were.

                “ **Héctor I swear on all  that is holy you cu-,”**

“Language, we have a baby!”

                “Socorro is in her nineties _and isn’tevenhere_!” Imelda practically shrieked-her writhing had left her disheveled by the time their bedroom was reached. The ribbons in her hair were dangling free, and her white blouse was hanging sideways off one shoulder. Before it could register to her, he plucked the ribbon from her hair, letting it tumble free while his other arm flung her light form to their patchwork quilt bed.

                “Héctor!-,” But she had no chance to finish-barely even a moment to sit up because he had straddled her animated body pinning her to the bed, while his large fingers easily trapped her thin wrists on top of one another.

                “You are in desperate need to relax.” And calmly, practically humming, his tied a sailor’s knot of the purple ribbon around the wrists, and in an instant they were secured to the metallic framed headboard. Oh…Imelda paused, this was…this was indeed familiar. Nights returned to her eyes-nights-or even _days_ when that look at come into his eyes. That…dominant look. Secured in place until she was calm-until she slept-until…he was done. Slowly he looked over her raising a curious brow bone for her next move. The knot was even tighter on bare bones than flesh.

                “You can’t be serious about this…we’re too old for this… _game_ …” Imelda muttered, feeling what had been her stomach flip at the sight of him upon his knees above her, his body keeping her place just as much as the ribbon. He was in new clothes, proper mariachi clothes, since performing more it had become a staple and one she certainly didn’t mind, that and his hair neatly combed-a sight she enjoyed to see the markings at his forehead. But now…she… _really_ didn’t mind how her struggling had knocked a few bangs free, tumbling across his face in a way that forced her to truly look at him and how frighteningly cunning he was right now.

                “What game…” A boney index finger traced her jawline, then neck while the rest of his fingers absently spun in her hair. Once again his voice had gotten slower, deeper, and made her feel so tiny-or more accurately her true height. She was a small woman-even smaller without her flesh. He towered over her with ease, lifting her and manhandling like she were nothing-…that is if he ever wanted. Part of Héctor’s appeal was his lack of desire to control, to force, to demand-but Dios..he certainly loved to _play_. “I’m simply making sure you get some sleep…and maybe tell me why you keep working so much.” Ay, there’s the catch.

                “I’m not tired.” Imelda spat, her tone turning to a soft hitch in her breathing when his open hand ran down her ribs, stimulating the curves with all the nerves her living body had known.

                “Hm not tired, whatever shall we do if she won’t nap…” Slowly his hands traced through her individual ribs, eliciting a weak murmur from her as he pulled the fabric suddenly taught between them. An unexpected whimper came out, and Imelda turned her head stubbornly away not interested in letting him win.

                “I-I’m in no mood for games…”

                “I’m not playing any games. I feel quite serious, I’ve missed my wife-,”

                “I didn’t go anywhere-,”

                “In our bed.” Oh. Well…it had been awhile hadn’t it. Well after Coco had arrived they were too busy talking about, and spending time as family-then…well work came along…all the work. How long, had it been…too long she realized feeling a painful ache with his finger hooked between the buttons of the blouse pulling it even tighter that her torso rose from the bed. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice…?”

                “…I…” Imelda was speechless and he tugged against her blouse demanding a response as she grit her teeth holding in a noise. “I’ve-been busy.” She sputtered.

                “Here I was afraid you were running from me.” And his mouth rested down beside her own-tantalizingly close but refusing to close the distance with a kiss despite how a part of her screamed to turn her head and do so.

                “No I-…I’m just busy…so untie me and-ah!” The other hand had found her pelvis bone, pressing the fabric she wore into the dip in a sudden delicious pressure to the empty space.

                “I spent a hundred years without you, do you really think there is anything that could convince me to let you go?” Hot breath trailed over her face and she shivered, her knees clacked together too loudly-embarrassedly alerting to him how her legs shifted with desire. The smirk on his face told her he was already well aware, and dipped his hand against her pelvis once more forcing her to writhe against the ribbon. “I don’t think you want me to let you go either…you’re trembling.”

                The other hand at her rib suddenly snapped open a button-letting it fly across the room.

                “Héctor,” But his name hadn’t come out in the scold like she wanted but instead a breathless inquiry. Another button, then the third, letting the blouse hang open exposing the gleaming white ribs.

                “You’re panting Imeldita…I can’t believe you want to return to the work shop like this.” And his head dipped, mouth brushing her sternum in the lightest most tantalizing of kisses.

                “No I don’t…” She managed shame turning head into their pillow until his fingers had her chin again making her watch as his kisses trailed between her ribs-each one making her chest jump a little higher as his goatee tickled each bone.

                “Look at me.” It was an order, she could only nod in agreement. The mouth found her spine, kissing, kissing, kissing, each spot-so lightly, sometimes not even touching just blowing air-then slipping away leaving her body aching with want for more attention. “Why do you think you can just strain this body, a body you promised to me in marriage.”

                “We’re dead…”

                “That doesn’t mean we don’t suffer…” Now he was laying atop her, feeling her own intense breaths against his face, even despite his seriousness she could feel his unhinged pants on her as well. “That doesn’t mean these bones are any less precious to me…” And he finally kissed her mouth, inhaling deeply. Imelda moaned in relief, her arms strained to hold him-but the restriction kept her back with a whine until he slowly lifted his head raising his brow bones to her.

                “I want you to touch me.”

                “Why should I do that?”

                “Héctor don’t…”

                “Don’t what?”

                “Don’t tease me…”

                “I don’t see you taking care of your bones or mind now, I don’t see why I should listen to a woman with bad judgement.” Even as he spoke his hands raised her skirts, crumpling them at her waist then in a shocking movement ripping down her bloomers earning a startled gasp from her. Quietly he hummed again, taking a hold of her boot on hand while leaving her lower half exposed to the air-chilling her and increasing the ache more than she realized.  

                Slowly she tried to curl her legs together, but with ease his arm caught her knee joint, hoisting it high and leaving her painfully exposed.

                “I’m waiting for an answer Imelda…” Slowly his fingers tapped a song score on the underside of her thigh, every time they danced close to her pelvis he slid away listening to her whimper of frustration. Agonized tears were blinding in her eyes from the tension as she looked away once more letting out a shameful plea.

                “Por favor…tocame por favor…I don’t have an answer…” And the hand left her thigh-she shivered closing her eyes in agony that he would leave the bed-leave her whimpering and wanting forcing her to sleep. But suddenly his mouth was on her cheek, kissing off the tears in a simple gesture that told her ‘of course not’.

                “Why are you crying Imelda?” Soft, intimate, each thumb tracing her cheekbone while he cupped her jawline bringing her gaze back to him.

                “I…I am ashamed.”

                “Ashamed?” Calm, gentle, patient eyes, the thumbs trailed back to her hairline smoothing it back. Now she had to look in herself for the answer, and it bubbled up painfully searing her throat as she spoke.

                “I don’t deserve this, I don’t deserve being touched by you.” Alarm touched his brows, as he traced her cheek markings, urging her to go on.

                “Imelda…where is this coming from?”

                “I kept you away a hundred years, a hundred years Héctor! Why aren’t you angry! You were murdered and if I had just…if I had just remembered you like Coco did…I would have known you’d never do such a thing.” Tears were suddenly spilling out with every word, rushing out with a knowledge she didn’t know she had.

                “Imelda…”

                “And then you almost died-a final death! You were nearly dust in my arms and I couldn’t do anything to stop it! I had to learn you were taken from me, and then have you taken nearly a second time in one night and I had no control! I couldn’t do _anything!”_ Now she was sobbing, hard. Hard until his body cupped her close humming softly against where her ear had been. It was strange-he fully dressed, she nearly nude-but the warmth that radiated from him-even as a skeleton-kept her warm.

                “But work you can control hm…” It wasn’t a question-he understood. Her ticks, her habits, a hundred years and he still knew the little pieces of her. How wonderful the dead mind did not decay with age. Imelda gasped softly, she struggled to form a few sentences-but finally just nodded against him, then dropped her head back against the pillow inhaling a few times.

                “I’m sorry I shouted at you…and was dishonest.”

                “Do you know…even being shouted by you as my wife is still a blessing? A hundred years without you Imelda…a hundred years of dreams and then I get you to hold you…Miguel blessed us more than we did him I think at times.” Imelda stared in disbelief, blinking a few times-his generosity, his patience, his warmth-how-how-how…then she forgot everything his mouth on her, kissing her hard with the passion she had pleaded for.

                They gasped into one another, and she felt his clothed hips roll against her exposed body, earning another whimper into his mouth.

                “You don’t need to be in control all the time…give me the control you’ll be safe…” He murmured against her mouth breathing heavily. Imelda eyed him curiously, her expression cautious, fearful-another kiss assured her she was okay and she nodded in submission, arching her wanting hips towards him.

                Slowly he kissed her, and the sounds of his rustling clothing made her spine tingle. The jacket shrugging off-he threw it-she couldn’t even remember how to scold him. Then his belt, the click making her moan with anticipation until she heard his trousers off all the way.

                There was no warning, suddenly his pelvis was flush, interlocking to her own and she broke the kiss squealing out in surprise-that faded to a gracious moan of relief when he arched forward-filling her with a feeling of pure warmth and pressure in the lonely bones.

                “See…” He breathed straightening up, lifting one of her legs high over his elbow so their pelvises could grind more deeply. Imelda helplessly cried out again-the sensation growing even more, the heat making her bones feel fragile, like they could tumble apart from the intensity. “You’re safe…” He lifted her shin and placed kisses across it down to her ankle. “Imelda…don’t stop looking at me…” It wasn’t scary-the tone was as comforting as it was deep. She could merely nod and whimper as he pressed all his weight into her exposed body.

                Embarrassment usually turned her face away, stiffened her from his gaze-but today-…today she wasn’t afraid. The memories flooded back to being young and free-her hands bound-maybe her feet by her ribbons and his belt. The soft laughs in her ear-then this…warm submission. No need to think, no need to worry, she had only to lay back and let his body do the work. The intensity he’d fuck her, deep, hard, murmuring softly into her ear how lucky he was, how he adored her, how he was the most blessed man in all of Mexico if not the world.

                It was happening again-keep her leg flush to him, he pressed down, arching his back to hiss out pants into her ear soothing and arousing her at the same time.

                “You’re so beautiful like this….the pleasure on your face, the way you moan…I love seeing your bones tremble because of me. Look at me…dios-si…” a harsh huskiness to his voice at her expression “your eyes…they’re glistening-es bonita…I want to make you spend until you can’t walk…”

                “Héctor!”

                “Si…I’m here,” His mouth was on her neck now-the same sensitive spot that melted her when she was alive. “Do it Imelda,…let go of that control for me.” There was no easing to his thrusts, the grinding on her, their pitiful bed was shuddering with creaks and hammering the headboard to the wall. And she screamed, screamed into his neck-freely, openly but he did not pause her offer her a moment’s rest like usual. The intensity continued until the peak bubbled and burst again-her orgasm doubling and leaving her bones like jelly. Still he did not relent.

                “Ha-…Héctor…I can’t…” The pleasure felt like drowning, the intensity almost suffocating in it’s wonderful beauty as he continued to stroke the fire inside her.

                “Si…nothing is stopping you-we’re dead-no limitations…” And she whined-whined whined-screaming out painfully when he sent another leg shaking release through her, her head fell back with a weak moan as the pleasure died down-and she wondered if she could truly handle anymore. “Si Imelda…just like that…” Tears were on her face again as she whimpered through the rolls of his hips torn between wanting more and wanting rest. He made the decision.

                Another, and she couldn’t even find a scream her voice so hoarse-everything hazy and warm, eyes lost in stars, and body floating…floating…this was heaven. This was above all worries or problems, just free and floating happily. Warm…safe-her eyes blinked-everything was blurry until she recognized his black hair in the crook of her shoulder, his own body trembling from what she imagined was his own resisted climax that he finally gave into. Affection burst in her how he had restrained himself too, to ensure her relaxation. Slowly he reanimated, a large hand cupping her face and pulling her close for a few soft languid kisses.

                It was with a contented sigh, she felt him reach to undo the knots on her wrists-funny she could care less about them whenever he decided to release them. For a moment she felt like a child, he pulled off the rest of her clothing, then yanked the quilt over them each before enveloping her tiny form into long one. There were no words for a few minutes-just his soft humming and breath, while she sank into the secure warm reality outside her haze.

                “Not too much…?” There was an exhaustion in his tone, but his eyes were wary, checking her for any damage, any hurt, or nerves. Slowly she shook her head feeling a contented smile on her face.

                “I feel…like I’m floating…”

                “Ay…there we are then…see…you don’t always need control…” Slowly his fingers parted through her hair and tapped little notes on the back of her spine. “And Imelda…look at me…” More soft, gentle, but still she rose her eyes allowing herself to tumble into his gaze. “You did…what you thought was best for our daughter…everyday for a hundred years. How can I fault you for that?” And he lifted her cheek to kiss once more.

                “Gracias…” Sleep was tugging at her eyes, she nuzzled closer to his bones, and he squeezed her tighter.

                “Sleep…” One last command whispered into her forehead with a kiss. It was easy to oblige.

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably my favorite one I wrote for the 30 day challenge <3 I hope you enjoyed. 
> 
> My writing and art are available for commission at my tumblr. If my work makes you smile, a ko-fi helps me so much! The support of ko-fis and commissions have enabled me to write all I have! Thank you. 
> 
> http://senoraluna.tumblr.com/


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